


can you hear my heart, my love (it only beats for you)

by Percyjacksonfan3



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Based entirely off of the movie canon, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, I think Davy became immortal in the 1600's?, Of a sorts, Pre-Canon, movieverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percyjacksonfan3/pseuds/Percyjacksonfan3
Summary: Davy Jones had always loved the sea.He had all he wanted, and no navy recruitment would fulfill him like being out on the sea did, free and under his own authority. His heart belonged to the waves, to the water and the currents deep within her. He needed no other.And then he saw her.(A look at how Davy Jones and Calypso met and the events leading up to him giving her secrets to the Brethren Court.)
Relationships: Calypso | Tia Dalma/Davy Jones
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	can you hear my heart, my love (it only beats for you)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, okay guys? I love the first three Pirates of the Caribbean movies an unhealthy amount probably, and these two have always fascinated me. One day I just got an idea in my head and I could not rest until I wrote it and from there... well. It spiraled.
> 
> I have only basic knowledge of pre-movie canon and so any inaccuracies are my own.

_The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed,_

_and bound her in her bones._

_The seas be ours,_

_and fight the powers._

_Where we will,_

* * *

Davy Jones has always loved the sea.

As a boy he used to splash in the shallows on the beach within eyesight of his family’s seaside cottage. He had swum with his mother and sat in the dingy with his father while he fished, looking over the side of the boat to see the fish flit past. Once, in one of his earliest memories out in that boat, he swore he’d seen a mermaid, but his father had laughed him off and Davy hadn’t been sure enough to argue.

He had grown up quiet and alone after the deaths of his parents. They’d gone in quick succession when he was barely three-and-ten. His mother died of sickness, a fever that carried her off in the night and then took his baby sister as well the next day. His father died out at sea on a job three months later, carried off deck by a storm. It was only when he got older that Davy heard the adults around him whisper of how his father actually died of heartbreak and threw himself into the sea on purpose to be reunited with Davy’s mother.

At the time of him being orphaned he was thirteen and thin, hungry and poor. But there was work to be done, a house to maintain, and the small family fishing business to run if he wanted to survive. He knew the most basic skills of sailing, so he hired a small crew and took his father’s boat out to try and catch enough fish to sell and make a living.

The ship barely managed, catching just enough that they had a margin of profit. His crew left him as soon as they got back to shore and they didn’t return, so next year he hired different men, and then new faces again the year after. By that point, he knew all he needed to in order to captain his own ship, and he was finally old enough that many of the workers were his age or only slightly older, meaning he could lie convincingly to persuade them he had lived enough years to garner respect. Though they had lived longer lives, none were more experienced, with Davy having faced more obstacles to make him hardy than any of them. The majority of his third crew stayed on for the next year, and soon his orders were being taken without any backtalk, hidden looks, or resentment.

For a while things went smoothly. Business prospered. He had a natural talent when it came to the open waves of the ocean, a talent that made others take note of him. But he kept his head down and focused on his own affairs, uninterested in the business of those around him. He knew what happened to those who took on more than they could handle and he refused to allow himself to become one of them.

Sailing. That was what he liked and what he was good at and so it was what he stuck to. Sailing and the sea.

The years passed and he worked them away. Rarely was he distracted by anything else. He felt the call of the ocean, not of women, nor money or titles. He was content and he lived alone, happy to be home but happier still when he was out on the waves with his men.

Until he met _her_.

He first saw her on the beach outside his childhood home. His skiff was just coming back in to land after a day he’d spent fishing alone for his dinner. And there she was, standing in front of him.

He was in his late twenties by then, experienced and beginning to make a name for himself as one of the best sailors around. Others had already pointed out his luck. He had a way with the sea, they said, had its favor.

Jones knew they were empty words, only said to make the rest of them feel better. The one difference between him and the men ten years his senior who were struggling to make a profit was that he never expected more from the sea than what it could give. He knew when to try and push for more and extend the sail for a week, and when to leave it alone and return home. The others hadn’t learned that yet; they only took and took, always greedy for more.

So he had earned himself a reputation as a natural sailor. He’d always had an affinity for the water and what it held, and he put it down to nothing but good instincts and the skills his father had passed on to him. His crew, neighbours and townsmen didn’t seem so sure.

Many knew that in the recent rough years it was only him who had managed to catch a decent haul. Only Jones who was able to navigate through the storm that devastated more than a few of the town’s locals, crippling some of the men and bankrupting more than a few businesses.

Eventually news spread that the navy were meant to be coming to town soon looking for recruits. One of his men said they were more than likely going to try and get Davy to join.

“You could be a Commodore sir. Maybe even work to become a Lord.” The boy- for that’s what he was really, Davy had thought while looking down at him, just a boy eager to earn his family some coin- had said earnestly. There was something respectfully awe-struck in his expression and Davy had looked away from it uncomfortably.

“I am a captain.” He’d replied before putting out his pipe on the railing. An old habit picked up from years of keeping company with other fishermen. “That’s all the rank I’ll ever need.”

To be a sailor taking orders from another was not his way and never would be. He lashed out under confinement and had always rejected any tutelage except that of his parents. Jones had lasted in school only long enough to learn his numbers and letters and then he had come home, announced his intention to be a sailor like his father, and that had been the end of it. He’d begun his nautical training in earnest the very next morning.

When his father hadn’t been teaching him, he had been with his mother, watching her play her pipe organ, the most valuable thing his family owned. Davy had learned it as well and was grateful he had, because now that she was gone it gave him an excuse to keep the one thing he most remembered her by.

He had all he wanted, and no navy recruitment would fulfill him like being out on the sea did, free and under his own authority. His heart belonged to the waves, to the water and the currents deep within her. He needed no other.

And then he saw her.

Standing on the shore as if in wait for him while he breached his tiny boat. There weren’t many women he took notice of, but with her he looked once and then again, and again, until she caught his eyes and smiled knowingly.

After that he couldn’t look away, hard as he tried to hide it.

She was unlike others from his village, but it wasn’t the most unusual thing for dark-skinned women like her to be wandering alone in these parts. They might make more of a fuss in the bigger cities farther south, but he only averted his eyes, embarrassed to have been caught staring at her like a young boy out in the town for the first time.

When he next glanced over again he jumped from being caught by surprise. Suddenly she was right beside him without his ever hearing her come closer. Immediately he took off his hat, embarrassed at being so tardy in doing so, and dipped his head slightly.

“Ma’am.”

Her skin was dark and so were her eyes. They flickered with amusement.

“You are Davy Jones?”

It’s posed and sounded like a question, but even back then Davy had had the unshakeable feeling that she already knew the answer.

He nodded slowly.

Her smile had stolen the breath from his lungs.

* * *

It took them a week before she admitted who she really was. Tia Dalma was a fiction, which explained why nobody in town had heard of her when he’d hesitantly asked around on one of his quick visits, and the woman in front of him was not really a woman at all, but a goddess.

He felt like he should have known. Had known, to some degree, that she was something different. Someone special.

“Calypso.” The name rolled over his tongue and out of his mouth smoothly.

It’s familiar, though not overly so. He knew only the barest myths about the sea, and while he’s prayed to Neptune in desperate times, he’s never actually believed in any of the deities people spoke of. He’s a godless man, and even the knowledge that his mother would be ashamed of it had never been enough to convince him to try and find faith. God doesn’t exist and so he’s never bothered to learn about him, or the Roman gods that dominated their religion before him. The Greek personas and tales are a foreign mystery to him.

Yet here she was. Calypso, a goddess of the sea from the time of the Greeks, held in his arms while they lay in his bed.

It’s improper to fall so quickly to lust. Whatever Davy believed, he did have basic manners and he tried to be a gentleman.

She’d ensorcelled him within three days, appearing every evening on the beach like an apparition when he would return from his short fishing trips. They would spend hours together, with her teasing and drawing him out with a few canny questions, and he would answer, rambling on and giving up parts of himself he’d never wanted to share before.

It had taken him hours on the third night to realize he was doing almost all of the talking and her none. When he had asked after her own tale she had turned her head to look at him where they lay in the sand underneath the stars, distracted from gazing up at the sky, and she only stared.

“I apologize, if I’ve overstepped.” He said because he didn’t know what other words could break the silence without making things worse. She’d been watching him with more intensity than he’d ever felt before.

He didn’t know how the question could have offended her when she had spent the entire afternoon asking him the same thing, but then again, he wasn’t the most experienced with women either. They’re bad luck to have on a ship and he was more focused on running a stable business than finding a wife. While he’d had a tumble or two since he’d come of age it had been more to see what all the fuss was about and to slake a rare urge than any persistent desire.

Jones liked women. He liked them very much.

He just loved the sea more. And he’d always known he could not have both. It wouldn’t be fair.

“You’re different than the others.” She answered finally and he had frowned, taking insult. For the first time her expression had turned kind rather than toying and she lifted a sand sprinkled hand to cup his exposed cheek as they faced each other on the surf. “No one else has ever thought to ask.”

He had blinked at that. The notion seemed impossible. He had a mystery lying only a foot away and what he wanted more than anything else was to unravel her and find out every thought and secret she’d ever had. The force of it had caught him off-guard and he had cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “Then they are all fools.”

Her grin returned and slowly, so slowly he knew she would let him pull away if he had wished, she moved her head towards his.

Pulling away was the last thing he wanted.

It was him pulling her forward that brought their mouths together, soft and questing. Curious on both parts, though for different reasons. She gasped, freezing for a split second in surprise, and though he asked, mumbling the question against her lips, he was ignored.

Instead she surged in, and suddenly there was nothing gentle in their movements. She was dominating and seeking, exploring like she’d been looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

He had to gasp eventually, throwing his head back to catch his breath. Her body straddled him, her hands pressed on his chest, as she looked down with pupil-blown eyes.

“What is it about you?” She murmured.

“What do you mean?”

She rocked slightly, making him gasp again, and satisfaction glinted for a moment in her expression, though it was quickly overshadowed by the confusion she obviously felt.

He tried to pull himself together. “Tia, we don’t- ah- don’t have to-”

“No.” She agreed, still sounding as if she was trying to figure out something. “But I want to. I’ve never wanted this so much before, with a man.”

The words made his mind spill, and he was too distracted by their bodies to give them the proper attention they needed. If he had, then perhaps he would have picked up on her secrets sooner.

“I’ve never felt this way before either.” He confessed and she had laughed, low and throaty.

“That, Davy Jones, does not surprise me.”

And then she leaned down to press their lips back together.

That was the first night but by no means the last. She was gone the next morning when he woke on the beach, and by the time he was sailing back to shore that second evening he had told himself she was no nymph, siren or goddess, and had been nearly convinced it was all a rather vivid and pleasant dream.

Of course then he saw her waiting on the shore again.

He didn’t actively steer away from her but neither did he go towards her either. Instead he continued his present course and felt his heart flutter when she was forced to walk over the sand- barefoot, he noted- to come to him.

Her expression was amused. “You’re upset with me.”

“You left me.” He muttered. It was lucky the small bit of beach in front of his home was almost always empty at night, otherwise anyone passing might have got an eyeful of the two of them and the gossip would have started. Still, that was little comfort when he had woken up alone in the cold night air with the stars and moon shining down on him.

“I don’t stay anywhere too long.” She said it like a challenge, and he finally looked up to meet her intense stare. “It’s my nature.”

He frowned. “Then why did you return?”

The same curious look she’d had last night returned to her face. “Because I wanted to.”

Maybe another man would have been frustrated by her coy aloof words, but he found himself admiring the blunt honesty of them. Who was he to question why a beautiful woman came back to spend more time with him? He had wanted her to appear again, he’s honest enough to admit that to himself, and like a miracle she had. It was easier to appreciate the fact that she had reappeared than to worry about why she’d left in the first place.

“I’m glad you came back.” He admitted, getting out of the boat and pulling it up further on the beach. “I was disappointed to find you gone.”

“You have no claim over me, Davy Jones.” She spoke seriously, her eyes searching his face as if to make sure the full implications of her words have sunk in.

“I know.” He replied softly, and he did. She was practically a stranger to him, and even if she wan’t, that did not make her his. One night together gave him no rights to treat her like his property. “I was disappointed. That was all.”

Brown eyes flared again, this time in satisfaction, and his lips twitched. “Does that please you?”

“It does.” Her voice was nearly a purr and he shivered. “Very much.”

His gaze dropped to her lips, albeit against his will, so he saw them curve up into a smile.

They made it to a more secluded part of the beach this time, which he’s grateful for. Their lovemaking was no less passionate for it and he tried not to drift off after they were both spent, chests heaving against one another.

“Don’t leave again.” He requested softly, trailing a finger down her arm. Goosebumps appeared in its wake and he watched as she inspected them as if they were curious, unfamiliar things.

“I cannot promise you that.”

His eyes fell closed but with effort he reopened them. “Tell me something about you then. Before you go.”

He’d spoken so much yesterday that he never did learn about her. Even when he’d remembered to ask they’d gotten too distracted for her to answer.

“Something real?”

Her voice was soft, and he frowned at the strangeness of the question. “Yes.”

She went quiet for a long time and he was beginning to wonder if that wasn’t a bad sign before she leant in, her mouth placed right at his ear.

“I will leave.” She whispered, and then moved to speak at his other ear. “But part of me will not want to. And that has never happened before.”

It was enough. He smiled and she kissed him softly, gently, before he drifted to sleep.

* * *

Perhaps he should have taken longer to believe her when she told him the truth about who- no, what-she was, but Davy looked at Calypso, took in her unblemished dark skin, the wise and ancient eyes, the cloying smile that emanates confidence and security, and he cannot doubt her.

He only doubted why she was choosing to spend her time with _him_.

“As a goddess you may go anywhere.”

She hummed as her fingers trace lines along his bare chest where they lay naked in bed. “Yes.”

“You could have your pick of anyone.”

“That is so.”

“Then…” He cleared his throat self-consciously, not wanting to drive her away. “What are you doing with me?”

She was quiet for a moment. “You give me pleasure.”

He flushed.

“In many ways,” she clarified, though her eyes glint wickedly, knowing where his mind had run. “And I am curious.”

“Curious? About me?”

She pressed her lips to his shoulder. “There has never been a man who loves the sea as you do. Who loves what I am as you do. I find I enjoy the feeling.”

He took some pride in that knowledge. Pride and pleasure both.

“Other men are fools then.” He replied and she laughed happily.

“Very much so. But you are different, I think.”

He turned his head, locking their gazes.

“I will try to be.” He vowed and then she kissed him and conversation was momentarily lost.

* * *

But he can never ignore it entirely, and though her visits were not reliable, they were often. They never went more than a week without him spotting her, even if it was just her silhouette standing on the beach staring up at his cabin before she disappeared in a blink. It was enough for him to know she thought of him, that she would be there when he needed her to.

She always returned though, eventually. And they had their way with one another before falling into his bed and whispering hushed questions and confessions in the dark.

“It must be hard,” he said softly one of those times, “to always be the one left behind.”

“I have always left first,” she said easily but had frowned nonetheless. “And yet with you… I do not want to lose you.”

She sounded surprised, as if it was a revelation. “I don’t want to be without you.”

“Nor I you.”

She acted as if she had not heard him. “How strange.”

Is it? He wanted to ask, but he could see that it was. He saw the wary way she eyed him after that, something almost suspicious, almost like fear in her gaze at times, but he managed to brush it off easily. If what he had gleamed from her words was true, then she had never been in love such as this before. Nor had he, but he was young yet. She was a goddess with thousands of years of life lived, and yet somehow, he had become the first to claim her heart.

It would be terrifying to her, he thought, and so he did nothing but try to reassure her in the best way he could.

It worked, at least for the moment.

* * *

Weeks turn to months and though summer fades their love and passion does not. As time goes on Davy lost some of his awe for her and instead began to think of them as equals.

Rather than being angry at the notion, as she would have been initially, Calypso seemed to revel in the new experience. It caused her to open up to him all the more. Davy did not shy away from this, rather he encouraged it all he could, if only to learn her better and understand the creature who had so thoroughly stolen his heart.

That is how she first hinted at what could be done to her, should any with the knowledge take it upon themselves to bind her.

“Is there anything you fear?” He asked her once, curious. His fears were all so mortal. Dying chief among them.

He feared death with all his being.

But Calypso… he looked at her and could not imagine her ever being afraid. It did not seem possible.

“Few things.” She said and he waited, knowing she would either tell him or she would not.

She did.

“Lately I have begun to fear losing you.” She frowned before pushing on. “But my oldest and deepest fear is of being captured and bound as I am now.”

“Bound?” Who could ever bind her, he wanted to ask. Surely such a thing could not be done, at least not by men like Davy.

“I am the sea. I do not wish to be restrained, nor should anybody try.”

“Sounds impossible.” He agreed.

“Not impossible.” She said before her sharp eyes looked back at him. “But foolish. No mortals should hold that much power.”

“Your power?”

“If I am bound it gives mortals dominion over the sea.” Her lip curled. “But that much power corrupts human hearts and blackens their souls. Perhaps not right away but eventually. It is the way of your kind.”

He nodded. He knew what men in power were like. Despicable and selfish. More often than not they’re cruel simply for the sake of it and because nobody could stop them.

“Better that it stays yours.” Davy agreed and she smiled.

And that is the end of the subject for a time.

But not forever.

* * *

“Are you asked for many favours?”

She opened curious eyes to him. “Such as?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Anything. Safety on the water, a quick death, the return of a piece of treasure or loved one.”

Her head cocked even as she nods. “Yes. Though the men who ask do not know who they are calling to, I often hear the prayers of sailors at sea.” Her grin was wicked. “I have heard yours, years and years ago.”

He flushed. “I hope it was not anything foolish.”

“Far from it.” She moved to straddle him. “You asked only for what you needed, that and no more. Fish to feed yourself, good weather to sail in and for you to survive the storms that came. You are not a greedy man.”

He was relieved to hear it and she leaned forward, pressing their chests together, making him lose focus. “Oh.”

She smiled. “And though you did not know it you prayed for boons for me as well. For my waters to be full and clear, for the sea to accept you and care for you as much as you care for it.” She kissed him, finally. “It was one of those prayers that first caught my attention.”

He moved to kiss her back until she pulled away, making him frown.

“It is the giving nature of your heart that makes me feel inclined to favour you more than any other who call upon me.” She rolled her hips and looked at him playfully. “Among other things.”

He gasped. “Calypso.”

But her face was serious now as she leant forward, far enough that when she spoke their lips brushed.

“I am inclined to grant you anything you wish.”

His eyes closed.

“What would you ask of the sea, Davy Jones?”

He had enough presence of mind to answer that, at least. “Only what she was willing to give me.”

And Calypso smiled.

“That is why you are different.” She murmured and then they kissed hungrily, giving and taking equally until both of them were sated.

* * *

The hurricane came as if from nowhere and it is the worst Davy had ever experienced. It was not often they saw such monstrous storms there in that part of the world, but it was as if the gods waited as long as possible to gather strength before sending them, to make the damage worse.

Davy captained his ship and crew as best he could. He did not pray to Calypso, would rather her not see him like that, so mortal and weak, scared and helpless. So much of what she despised.

But then one of his crew, Daniel, went overboard and Davy had no choice. He tied a rope around his waist and dived in after the boy, praying to Calypso all the while.

It is pure luck and chance his hands found Daniel in the icy darkness of the sea that night. He heard the booms of thunder from above the surface through the press of the water, and saw only glimpses of light from the flashing lightning. In truth they were too deep for him to see much of anything, and he searched frantically, helplessly, speaking to Calypso in his mind and begging, begging for her to let him live, even if Daniel could not be saved.

But then his hands caught on the press of a body and his eyes strained enough to see the floating shape before him. He grabbed Daniel swiftly, feeling as his dead weight began to drag both of them down, and even though Davy had begun to worry the man had already drowned he did not let him go.

He gripped the boy tightly with one hand and used his other to tug on the rope twice, a clear signal to be pulled back up. But the rope had come undone around him in his frantic searching underwater, and Davy did not notice the loop had come loose around his waist until it dragged down his body, allowing one of his legs to slip free, before tightening painfully around the mid-thigh of his other.

So painful it was a wonder it didn’t compress his leg completely, that is how strong the pressure was as the rope secured itself around his thigh and began to pull him and Daniel back to the boat.

It was then, as they were being pulled, that he thought he caught a glimpse of her. Her or some figment of imagination, he thought he saw Calypso swim up to him. And she looked different, strange, not human, but he recognized those eyes, and recognized her touch on him, propelling him back to the boat and to the surface, just as he lost consciousness.

He did not lose his grip on Daniel, however, and somehow they both ended up back on the deck safely. And when Maccus had done enough chest compressions to force Davy’s lungs to work again he rolled over, spitting out water, and then flopped onto his back to stare up at the suddenly clear sky.

The hurricane was gone, swept away as quickly as it had come.

Perhaps Calypso had answered him after all.

Their ship was near wrecked and the men’s souls shaken. Davy ordered them to set sail for port immediately, and it was a good thing he did because the next day the pain from his leg did not abate- rather it grew worse, peaking sharply, before suddenly he couldn’t feel anything in it at all.

Dead. Dead and useless.

They reached shore not two days later and the doctor Davy visited confirmed his worst fears. The leg must be amputated, lest he wanted it to rot and poison the rest of his body.

From mid-thigh down it goes, and the doctor gave him a wooden peg leg to replace it.

Davy could do nothing but accept.

His crew ensured he made it safely home, Daniel (who had survived unscathed) went so far as to take him into his cabin. But Davy soon waved him off, sending him home, saying that he would not be alone and the boy had no need to worry.

The crew has heard of Davy’s woman, though he spoke of Calypso little, and so Daniel believed him readily enough. With a last repetition of thanks and gratitude he went, leaving Davy to the quiet of his home.

He chose to sleep, knowing that if he did not he would succumb to anger or, worse, tears.

She did not come immediately. Though Davy struggled in those first days soon he developed a routine easily enough, learning to work around that impairment of his. A week passed and he slept through most of it. Then another and he found he was slowly better able to move.

The men checked on him, one of them visiting at least every second day, and he was grateful for that. Their women had sent along extra food and clean clothes and tokens of gratitude for him keeping their husbands, brothers and sons safe. And though usually Davy would not accept such things he found himself in no position to refuse then.

But mostly he slept. Rest and recovery, the two typically went hand in hand and this was no different. He whittled to keep away his boredom, and played the organ. His appetite returned more with each passing day and soon he found exhaustion pulling at him to bring him to sleep again.

He woke when he heard the final notes of the now-familiar lullaby, chiming from one of the identical lockets they both had (bought on a day they had gone into town together). As he woke he felt someone crawl into bed beside him, the weight familiar and the shape comforting. Her warmth hit him before her touch did and he blinked awake from where he lay on top of the sheets, where his leg had been obvious for them both to see.

Her arms encircled him and only then did he realize he was trembling. Only then did he realize her fingers were shaking as she combed them through his hair. She had managed to slip into a position behind him, and they sat up with Davy leaning back against her chest, her legs bracketing his waist.

Her lips were at his ear. “I have parted with many before. But I do not want to part from you. That was far too close.”

His eyes closed in supplication. “I would do anything to stay with you.”

His leg ached, though he knew that was only his imagination now. It had been barely two weeks since the storm had driven them back to shore. There had not been enough time for his wound to heal before they’d arrived home. From mid-thigh down was lost to the hurricane, and in truth he had been most scared for Calypso to see him like this, weakened and so obviously mortal, two things she had no patience for.

But there in his bed she had only looked at him with troubled eyes and touched the stump gently, taking the pain away and healing it completely. The pain he felt now was nothing but a memory.

“You have seen much, Davy Jones.” She whispered to him. “I am sorry. I grew distracted.”

“It wasn’t the sea itself,” he said, and it was true. He had chosen to dive overboard after Daniel, the rope tied around his waist, because he’d foolishly believed Calypso’s love would be enough to protect him in her domain. But she had told him, hadn’t she, that she was not the only goddess out there. And though he had rescued Daniel, the rope had slipped while they were in the water, catching on one of his legs and tightening to the point that by the time they were safely on deck his nerves and circulation were entirely gone.

Cutting it off had been the only choice. Better to amputate than walk around with a dead and poisonous limb.

“I do not like seeing you this way,” she whispered, as if it was a secret. His heart had beaten painfully. “I wonder…”

“What?”

“There is a way,” she said finally. “A bargain we could make. You would have the chance to live forever.”

Immortality. It took a moment for her offer to sink in and when it did he froze, the idea too huge to believe. It went against his very being as a human to contemplate such an idea.

The concept of forever stretched out ahead of him, looming and large.

Would he not grow tired eventually? Bored? It would be too difficult, wouldn’t it, to watch those around him grow old and die?

But who did he have to miss, really? He had no friends from childhood, and though he liked his current crew well enough and trusted them to do their duty, he was under no impression that they would never grow tired and leave his ship when a better opportunity arose. They would rise through the ranks, not content to stay in the same place in life like he was, and they would be given their own ships to sail for the king and that would be that. His parents were gone, he had no siblings, and he had no superiors to speak of

No, in reality, the only person he had in his life that he would miss was Calypso. He had been with few women, only enough to know what all the fuss was about and know what he was doing, but her… once he had been with her he knew he would never crave another ever again. There was no danger of him missing out on anything of that nature, not when he had Calypso. And there was no longer any danger of her leaving him, not when she had made it clear he was different and he was the only one of the two of them that could die.

But here she was, giving him that same chance of living forever, never to die, never to be parted.

The truth was that Davy Jones was a coward. He had always feared death and now that he had come closer to it than ever… he was desperate not to succumb to it.

“If I could make you immortal and give you power over the seas, would you take it?” Her voice was suddenly urgent. “Davy, if we could be together always, would you accept? No matter the price? If I could save you from death, from that horrible human fate,” the disgust slipped through her voice no matter how hard she tried to hide it. “Would you say yes?”

He pulled away from her. “You can offer me that?”

Her mouth worked and he noticed her hands clenched in her lap. “I have never given it to any not of my own blood before. But you- yes I would give it to you. But you must ask me first.”

“Tell me,” he commanded, harsh and scared and desperate. Her eyes flickered.

“I would give you a ship and immortality. You could sail the seas forever and be the most powerful vessel on the water.” She cupped his face. “But there is a price, my love.”

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“We would be separated.” He flinched and she continued. “For ten years. You may only return to land once every ten years. The rest of the time you must ferry the souls who die in my waters to the Other Side. That would be your duty. And I could not accompany you.”

Disappointment flared, sharp and bitter. Duty, obligations and having to trust another. She knew how deeply he despised it.

“My duty. I would not be free to go where I wished.”

Her eyes were sad. “We are all bound in one way or another.”

“You’re not.”

“Aren’t I?” She challenged. “I have forced myself into this single form more times these past twenty years to see you than I have ever done before. The others have weakened me through my love for you.”

“The others?”

“I am not the only god out there.” She remindsed him and left it at that. “Even immortals are not deathless.”

“But how…” He shook his head. “How does being human make you vulnerable?”

She was quiet for a long time, merely looking at him, obviously thinking over her next words carefully. But then, for perhaps the first time, Davy Jones saw Calypso vulnerably stripped bare to her very core.

“I am weak, like this.” She looked down at her body. “I can be killed. One could shoot me or run my through with a sword or snap my neck.”

“You still have your powers.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen them.”

“Yes. But when I am free, unchained by this body… I am not limitless, but I am close. Like this I grow exhausted easily, and can only see with my eyes, touch with my body and create with my hands. My energy is finite. When I am myself, pure and unrestrained, I can see from the skies and create storms with a thought. I can be the sea, huge and encompassing and deadly.”

For the first time Davy Jones truly understood how much she had been sacrificing for him each and every time they came together.

“You say your greatest fear is death,” she wove their fingers together, turning his palm this way and that. “Mine, my love, is being caught as you have caught me. Of being bound and trapped like this permanently.”

“Who could do that to you?” He asked breathlessly. It was unimaginable to him, that somebody could have so much power over her. The sea could not be controlled.

Nor should it be.

She started and their eyes met once more. “Some. If they knew the rites. Luckily humans forgot them long ago and I would not have them reminded.” She smiled. “But we were speaking of you.”

Immediately his mood sobered again. “I am afraid.”

“I know.” Her hand came up to rest over his beating heart. “I was afraid of losing you. And you must know, you will be at risk like I am now. Your body will limit you, as the one I choose does with me. Your heart will not be invincible, and it will be your weakness.”

He nodded quietly and she leaned forwards, their lips meeting.

“Ask, my love.” She whispered, sending sparks shooting through him. “Ask me.”

His eyes closed in surrender. “Stay with me?”

Her smile was wide from victory.

* * *

There are few men who love the sea like Davy Jones. For many that passion fades after a few years of adventure. Too many miss the warmth of a woman, or the steadiness of land and a job that awaits them there. More get sick of salted preserved food and stale water out of barrels.

Not him. He was not the first to love the sea but he was the first mortal that she loved back enough to bind them together for eternity. Most men don’t get that reciprocity, not from her. They give and she takes, and they end up leaving her in search for somebody to give something back to them.

Davy Jones was different. He loved the sea with no hope or expectation of getting anything back. His love was pure.

It’s why she chose him, after all. Immortality is not granted lightly, and though she could be cruel and manipulative she never was with him. When she made the offer it was sincere. When he accepted, her happiness and relief that now they need never be parted was real.

“I will not stay with you always,” she whispered in his ear in their bed, trailing her fingers across his chest the morning before he was to set sail with the dead souls for the first time. “I cannot stay in one place for too long, it is unlike my nature. But every ten years, when you seek me out, I will be there. And though it is not in the nature of the gods, I vow I will love no other.”

“You are a goddess,” he whispered back, staring up at the ceiling until she rose to hover over him. “I cannot expect you to wait.”

“I have chosen who will be with me for eternity.” Her dark eyes searched his, waiting for him to understand. “Though we may each have our own distractions here and there, they will be nothing to this. We are bound now, you are I. Forever.”

Her hand on his chest was cool and strong. His heart had beat frantically at the touch, his only piece of mortality left reacting to her just as strongly as it ever had.

The breeze rustled the sheer curtains in the open window, and he heard the waves battering against the rocks. He’d always enjoyed living right on the coast and having the sea near, but today for the first time he could remember he did not want to set sail. Ten years was a long time, and even though he was immortal now that did not make time tick on faster than before.

But she had never felt like this for any other. And he had never even glanced at another woman twice, not with the true longing in his heart calling for her. If any could survive this it would be them.

And she would be with him always. Surrounding him, carrying his _Flying Dutchman_ over the waves. This was Calypso, goddess of the sea. If she ever needed him she would make herself known.

“We will write to one another, as we have all this time.” Still she searched his face for something. “And you alone have my heart, Davy Jones.”

“I believe you,” he whispered before catching her lips in a kiss and falling back onto the bed together one final time.

He kept the letters sealed in a chest hidden away in his quarters on the ship. The key sat in a pocket over his breast, the weight reassuring against his heart.

He knew the men whispered. They were bound to the ship, but not him. They had a limited sentence for their crimes and betrayals at sea, a set number of years, but he had eternity. He was bound to the sea and her only. Bound to his duty and the task he’d been charged with and no more. The men whispered about their captain who tamed the goddess of the depths, who caught her heart and now controlled her.

Calypso would grow angry to hear such things. The idea that anyone could bind and control her, man or woman, would be an insult to her very nature. And so, though he was usually a kind captain, he snapped at those men to shut them up. He knew they still talked but it was never where he coudl hear and he supposed that was enough.

The letters were kept away, hidden from any curious chinwags. The sailors may be men, but the presence of a cock between their legs did nothing to shut their mouths. Men gossiped like any woman. Worse than some when they were stuck on one ship for years with nobody else to talk to and nothing but the monotonous work of a ship to occupy their minds.

Their letters were in his chest. The key was in his breast pocket. His men waited on deck.

“I will be back tomorrow.” He said simply, ignoring all but Maccus, unwilling to let them see his nerves. He had no reason to be nervous, nothing had changed since they had last spoke and he knew from her letters she was just as eager to see him as he was her. It was longing he felt more than anything, sharp and cloyingly sweet, ready to be satisfied.

He touched the locket hanging around his neck anyway, an old fidgeting habit that had only gotten worse over the year of their separation. He wondered if she heard when he played it all those times as the decade had gone past.

His first mate only nodded, and with a final nod in returned Davy Jones willed himself to go ashore, his little cabin on the coast waiting for him.

It was easy to brush off the twinge of disappointment at her not being on the beach waiting for him. No, he knew she would rather wait for him inside where it would be the two of them alone, and the sounds of the sea soothed them through the window. Perhaps she will be in their bed, needy and aching as bitterly as he had been for her.

When they have finished their initial lovemaking he will whisper his secrets from the last ten years into her skin. His darkest thoughts of how he finds the sea pales in comparison to having her with him, how sometimes in the middle of the night he wonders whether he made the right decision after all. Would it really have been so bad to grow old like those around him?

But he always managed to convince himself his choice was the right one. Growing old would have meant losing her at some point or other, even if she had continued visiting him until his deathbed. This way they had an endless future before them. And the distance made him treasure her all the more.

This is what he told himself at nights when his bed was cold and the sun hid behind the clouds. While the dead souls over the side of the ship seemed to be inescapable.

He had escaped the clutches of death. Davy Jones was given his wish.

This is what he thought of as he climbed up to the forgotten cabin to her. That and his excitement at seeing her again, the rush of energy in his veins. It made his blood sing and his heartbeat quicken, like a good current did when he and the crew were out at sea.

It was only when he opened the cabin door and found total silence that the suspicion first occurred to him.

Where was she?

His home looked unbothered. Uninhabited and unkept, and he knew with resounding certainty that Calypso was not here.

He wanders through the rooms anyway, fingers trailing through layers of dust, eyeing the tidy shelves and cold fireplace, the forgotten wood stove and the cupboard of old linens.

It was only when he got to the pipe organ that he saw a change, something that gave him pause. The stool, which he had made sure to tuck under the organ before leaving, was pulled out perfectly for somebody to sit on. The keys were free of dust, and the entire organ looks well kept compared to the rest of the house that is free of shine and forgotten.

Hope returned to him. She had been here. Maybe not recently, but recent enough that the organ’s shine hadn’t dulled, and no dust coated it. She hadn’t forgotten him.

It was enough to make him stay. He cleaned a bit and then he waited. When he got bored of that he walked along the beach, taking in the vegetation growth around the cottage- less than 10 years worth, somebody had been keeping this from being overrun- and then he took a piece of wood to whittle away at it for a while. When he finished that he picked up one of the three books in the house but only made it through a few pages before setting it down.

She did not come.

Night fell and she still didn’t appear. His waited up, keeping a vigil, ready to greet her the moment she opened the door and walked in, but it never happened.

By the time morning came he accepted the truth. He would not see Calypso today.

Heartbreak was new to him and maybe that is why it overtook him so completely. The pain was excruciating, he felt the reminder with every beat in his chest, and it is an angry, crippling thing.

The transformation is so swift that one night is enough. He went to shore as a fool in love and he returned to the _Dutchman_ bitter and cruel.

Surely others have never felt what he feels, he thought as he rowed back to his ship. This feeling would crush him, it will destroy him utterly, and he was helpless to stop it.

If he wasn’t so angry he would have been terrified.

He pulled himself up the rope ladder to meet his crew on deck. Their eager and curious eyes were too much, their excitement palpable. It was an easy thing to face them with his ugliest and most furious glare. The expression is unfamiliar on his face but it fit comfortably.

“Captain! How was-”

“We will not speak of it,” he growled at Maccus, shoving past him quickly. “Load up the dingy and see that I’m not disturbed.”

The crew parted for him fearfully as he moved past them. The _Dutchman_ was built with a private room for the captain, an unusual find on pirate ships, but he’s grateful for it now as he stormed his way into his quarters and locked the door behind him.

There is the question, he thought, of what to do now?

If he has nobody waiting for him then what is the point of toiling away for ten years? If his motivation is gone then why should he spend his eternity slaving away for her, when instead he could do as he wishes and sail the seven seas to his pleasure?

His one reward has proven to be false, empty and hollow. What is there to bind him now? He has no restraints, nothing holding him back, and he is immortal. His crew has no say, they are bound to the Dutchman, not to him, and the Dutchman sails as its captain commands.

In other words, he is the most powerful man on the seas. These past ten years he had been docile and performed the duty Calypso had laid out for him without fuss.

Now he’s less inclined to continue.

It’s that moment when his eyes fell on the chest of letters they’ve shared. Nothing in the most recent letter indicated that she had fallen out of love with him or was any less eager for them to see one another than he was. Perhaps there had been something that tore her away, something bigger than himself that he didn’t know of yet. There was a chance that this was a mistake.

So he wrote her a letter. It was simple, a three worded question, and he sealed it, rolled it up and slipped it into the empty bottle.

_Where were you?_

He opened his latched window easily and dropped it, listening for the faint splash as the water took it down into its depths.

The _Dutchman_ waited three days for an answer.

Nothing came.

“Captain, shouldn’t we- might we push on?”

Even Maccus sounded nervous now, his first mate, the most loyal of them all. The one person who had followed him from his mortal life to join this crew. He was the last of Davy’s sailors to protest his decision to stay anchored in wait. It went against their duty, the promise each of them made to ferry the dead souls to the afterlife, and the men were scared at what their punishment could be for shirking their obligation.

But they had not entirely forsaken it yet. Davy was ready to hear Calypso’s excuses, perhaps even ready to believe them, and then resume his role. Yet as those three days passed without even a word he found that his patience and his inclination for forgiveness disappeared with them.

The men were anxious and afraid and Jones took note of that. He was only immortal in a limited sense. Though he did not age and his health would never fail, he was just as able to be killed by a sword or drowning. His sailors may not know that for sure, but he’s not willing to risk a mutiny where they could find out.

Maccus still stood beside him, waiting patiently as Davy stared out over the horizon.

He’d really thought she would come. Had it been so foolish of him to expect an answer, an explanation?

Perhaps. She had always reminded him that she was unrestrained and owed nothing to anybody, not even him. Did she chafe at responsibility and authority so strongly that she used this as a way to show her autonomy and power? Did she see even Davy as a threat to that? Davy, who was only powerful because she chose and allowed him to be. He who was entirely at her mercy, heart and soul.

Was this meant to be a message with ulterior meaning? An act to show that no matter how powerful Davy felt now, it was always Calypso who would be in control?

Did she really think he could have thought otherwise?

The mind played cruel games with a heartbroken man and Davy was no different. This was the sort of spiraling he allowed himself to be driven to in the days that he waited for her. Doubts and insecurities plagued him, and what made it all the worse was the fact that he was never given any answers.

Finally he tore his eyes away from the rising sun. The three days were up.

“Set sail for Tortuga.” He announced, hearing the gasps and shocked whispers of the crew. “We have business with the Brethren Court.”


End file.
